


Notes and Blocking

by misslonelyhearts



Series: Other Than We Were [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-02
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-01 00:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslonelyhearts/pseuds/misslonelyhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the photos that inspired this, please visit the Tumblr page: http://missl0nelyhearts.tumblr.com/post/17721456399/ma-serannas-dragon-age-ii-modern-au#notes</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

We meet in acting class.  It’s not an intro course, so the people who are here every day seem to give a shit.  And there’s her.  She’s the first person in ten years that doesn’t make me feel instantly like an ogre.  Taller, and broader and harder than everybody else.  Except where I’m not.

She likes my freckles, and my t-shirt.  We go for coffee.

I learn that she’s just lost everything she had in a fire…but not IN the fire.  No, when the trucks came they doused the entire complex, every apartment.  Even the ones at the far end, like hers, that weren’t on fire.  To make matters worse, she laughs, the underground parking garage was flooded by all the water to put the fire out.  And she lost her car, too.

This, she tells me, was days before a scheduled trip to Death Valley for a model shoot.  Where it rained for the first time in twenty years.

I realize, watching her sip her coffee, that I want to know what her tongue feels like in my mouth.  And though it’s the first time in my entire life that a woman has ever made me feel that way, the profundity of it escapes me.  It’s just her. 

We go to a thrift store.  Not just musty old clothes, though.  The kind of store where oddities are packed all the way to the ceiling.  I don’t know where to look.  I’m staring at a cluster of paper parasols hanging from the rafters when I hear a chorus of tiny jingles.

“For my monologue.” She says, and gives me a lift of her chin.  It’s _Shivaree_ , or something.  I can’t remember, but I think it’s about a shut-in and a belly dancer.  There’s a gauzy, blue scarf tied around her hips, and a thousand glittering, gold bells tremble along the edges.

There’s not a part of me that can focus on anything else.  Her arms, and her white teeth.  The way she licks her lips, and the dust in my nose.  I can’t even swallow.  The bells dip and sing.  Until I feel her hand on my cheek, I don’t even realize how hard I’m breathing.

She kisses me in the thrift store.  With moving people all around, and everything else just a still-life.


	2. Chapter 2

I’m going to do something wrong. 

She’s got her thigh under the bend of my knee and I keep thinking of that instead of where to put my hands.  I don’t know what to do, so I’m going to fuck it up.  I just know it.  The kiss goes on.  On the couch where I’m leaning over my bag to get to her, and on my skin where it’s still trying to remember the thrift store and the sound of tiny bells . . .even though that was weeks ago.  But, the hard ache, just below the last button on my jeans, says it’s fucking _now_.

Bela knows, and thank God that’s good enough for both of us.  For the next few minutes anyway.  Whatever happens in the hot space after this kiss is some other Marian’s problem. She’s so good, though.  Where I can’t manage to do more than brace and sweat, she’s got lips like ballroom dancers, and now I’m not just watching how perfect they are from across the classroom, how rhythmic, how wet.  




I’m supposed to participate. 

I cup her cheek, doing at least that much to help myself. Something crunches inside my bookbag, but I barely notice it until the weight of the thing is gone.  Maybe it’s on the floor now, and I might remember later to check on it when there’s not a tongue to ponder or the thick hair at the back of her neck.  Bela chases away any cool air, replacing it with firm hands across my lap, and a tease of fingers at my hips.  Like this, she’ll see I don’t have much of those to begin with.  Like everything with her, I’m starting at a loss.

“Come here,” she says.  Why doesn’t it sound like every other command, like something I know, if not the exact thing I want?  I let her urge my leg over, and I’m sitting in her lap before I can think too hard about it.  God, what if I’m too heavy for this?  _Fuck it_ , I think, and my knees go a little wider, stomach a little knottier.  Bela approves with a moan, hands following my waist, up my back and under my shirt.  The whole time her gold eyes never stop reading me, though it’s hard to believe I’m the one keeping her interest.  Bela purrs, “Better?”

“How obvious is it, scale of one to ten, that I have no clue what I’m doing?” What I want to do is cry and thank her for letting me just sit in her lap.  But I’m not a dumb kid anymore.  When she reaches up to touch my face I grab her hand, all serious but _not_ , just the way she likes.  I know that much.  “Be honest.  I need notes.”

“You’re a five, girl.  You’ve always been a five.” The hand that’s still at my back gives a press, making me slip forward.  “That just means I can’t tell yet.”

Considering I’ve forgotten to care about feeling heavy on her thighs, or about my coffee breath (or hers), I take this note as a good sign. Pulling her thumb into my mouth, I test it with teeth, and greet it with my tongue.  Whatever she looks like while I do this is beyond me, because my eyes are closed and it’s just easier that way.  Until the black world tilts, her thumb pops away, and the dancers are back in force as Bela drags my weight against her.  She’s slow, kissing me where we align; lips to throat, tits against my ribs, and palms kneading my ass.  I roll so deeply into her hips that I have to brace against the back of the couch.

When did I want something different? More importantly, _why?_

“Do what you like.” She says against my t-shirt, and that’s the best news all day. Better than dusty shelves and tinkling bells.  “Start with what you know.”

I kiss her forehead, fingernails scraping under the mass of her hair, and make a pained groan for all the ways I might still make this awful. “What if I don’t know the first thing?  Hard to start from nothing.”

She laughs like smoke and she smells like pepper.  Bela snags the collar of my shirt with her teeth, making it snap softly on my skin before leaning back against the pillows.  “I’ll make you a deal, sweetie. I won’t underestimate you if _you_ don’t.”

There’s no bra under my shirt, which she knows, and it’s not like I’d hide how frank and hard my nipples are anyway.  But when her hands push up, dragging thin cotton tight around her arms, I stop breathing and start watching in earnest.  For notes.

“This?” Bela bats her eyes.  God, I hate it when people ask questions they already know the answers to.  Whatever.  I nod.  I make a dumb sound.  We both watch the shirt go up, and her hands close over my breasts while I learn what it’s like to free-dive with no scuba tank.  Bela’s thumbs go back and forth, and we’re so sticky, but even if I had AC in this dump I wouldn’t turn it on.  If she would just . . .

Her _mouth_.

My tits are small, a morsel at best.  But no one’s ever looked at them like she does, sucked them happily and not as an afterthought.  My shirt’s rucked up under my armpits, skin blotchy red and hot.  When her lips pull back into a smile I think my face might explode.  She says “nice freckles _”_ directly at my chest, and means it.

“Nice everything,” I respond, and scrunch down to kiss her, plucking the buttons at the front of her blouse with my chewed-up nails.  To my surprise I manage them, one by one.  Then she’s open, waiting with her smirk and a stark, white bra dampening in the middle part.  I still don’t know what to do (for her, _to_ her?) but least I know how to get undressed.  And I try not to whine when I say, “Take it off for me?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” She winks, leaning forward to comply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you ademska.


End file.
